


it's your love that brings me home

by killerqueenwrites



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Kidnapping, Non-Graphic Violence, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, THEY DESERVE IT, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Whump, someone give the whole ironfam a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22305646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerqueenwrites/pseuds/killerqueenwrites
Summary: “What happened?”“They took her out of school,” Tony says. “Just – walked in and left with her, and not a single person in that entire stupid place thought – none of them even looked – and we can’t get a license plate, FRIDAY can’t track the car on cameras–““Let me help,” Peter says. “I can get out there, cover more ground than the cops – and I’m stealthy, they won’t see me coming, not like you or Rhodey–““I said no.”or Morgan is kidnapped and Peter knows he has to save her, whatever it takes.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 54
Kudos: 984
Collections: Irondad Fic Exchange 2019





	it's your love that brings me home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madasthesea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madasthesea/gifts).



> so i got madasthesea as a pinch hit and i feel like i was justifiably terrified to be writing for this absolute legend who also happens to be a lovely person. i went with the prompt ‘Morgan gets kidnapped and Peter saves her, Tony is proud and worried.’ i hope you like it! 💕💕
> 
> title is from brother by needtobreathe
> 
> warnings: blood, guns and threat to a young child

In the early-morning, half-asleep silence of a high school Spanish class, the hum of a phone vibrating may as well be a gunshot.

“Apáguelo, por favor.”

“Lo siento,” Peter mutters, fumbling for the lock button without looking at the screen.

The silence only lasts for a moment before the phone buzzes again.

“Peter,” Mr Baker says, switching back to English in exasperation. “If that rings again, I’ll have to confiscate it.”

“I’m sorry, I thought I put it on silent.” Except he wouldn’t put it past Tony to override that. _Please don’t call again, please do not–_

The piercing ring that follows seems to slice the air in two.

“Phone,” Mr Baker says without preamble, walking up to Peter and holding his hand out.

“Sorry,” Peter mutters again and goes to hand his cell over, catching sight of the screen as he does. Four missed calls from Happy. “Um, this might be an emergency, so can I just go out in the hall and check?”

“Mr Parker, I really don’t think–“

“Peter Parker to the principal’s office, please, that’s Peter Parker to the office.”

Peter shares a confused glance with MJ. If the whole class wasn’t staring at him before, they certainly are now.

“Dude,” Ned says, “what did you _do_?”

“No idea.”

“Okay…” Mr Baker says slowly. “Off you go, Peter.”

“Yes, sir,” Peter mutters and scoops up his backpack, unable to shake the sudden feeling that something is terribly terribly wrong.

* * *

He trudges into the office with no particular sense of urgency, only to yelp in shock when he’s yanked into a tight hug.

“Oh, thank goodness,” May gasps in his ear.

“May? What are you doing here?”

“Kid!”

“Happy? What–?”

“Answer your damn phone!” Happy barks.

“I was in class – the teacher nearly took it off me, it was ringing so much. Why were you calling?”

Happy shares a look with May. “You haven’t heard anything?”

“I’ve been in class all morning!” Peter glances between the two of them. “What?”

“We’ll tell you in the car, baby,” May says. “Come on, quickly. Thank you again, Mr Morita.”

“Right. Yes.” Principal Morita seems to nod, shake himself. “Of course. Take care, Mrs Parker. See you soon, Peter.”

“Bye,” Peter calls absently as Happy pulls him out into the corridor, May following. “Guys, seriously!”

Happy ignores him in favour of pulling out his phone. “Rhodey? Yeah, I got him. Hm, yeah. Some dickhead was trying to confiscate his cell. What? Yeah, it was the Spanish teacher.”

“May!” Peter begs, but they’re out the door and halfway to the car, so she just hurries him along. As he slings his bag across the backseat and starts to climb in, ice starts to creep up his spine and he whips his head around.

There. Across the parking lot, almost hidden behind someone’s pickup, someone in sunglasses and a cap is watching him from a black car.

“In. Now.”

“Happy, did you see–?”

“Yep.”

“How did you know–?”

Happy slams his door shut and guns the engine in the same second, swinging out onto the street. “We got here just in time, then – Jesus–“

“Happy!”

“Sweetie, Morgan’s missing,” May says.

“She’s what? She was at school!” Not Morgan. Morgan who thought of him as her brother before she ever knew him. Morgan who spends so much time talking about Tony to Peter that he’s started slipping and calling the man ‘Dad’, but not to his face. Yet. “What happened?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

“Well – let me–“ Peter dives for his backpack. “I have the suit, just find an alley so I can change, and–“

“We’re going back to the Tower.”

“Happy–“

“Peter,” Happy says firmly, as May reaches out to grab Peter’s hand, “Tony needs you back at the Tower.”

Oh. _Oh_. “Is he…?”

“He’s holding out.”

“That sounds…not great.”

“I’ve seen him worse.” Happy’s voice is strained.

Peter can imagine when. “I just – I wanna _help_.”

“I know, kid. I know.”

“The best thing you can do now is be there for him and Pepper,” May says. “That’s what they need, sweetie.”

* * *

Peter’s barely set foot in the Tower before he’s tugged into yet another tight embrace. “I’m okay,” he murmurs, “I’m okay, Tony.”

Tony clutches the back of his head.

“There was someone in the parking lot,” Happy says. “Black car, sunglasses, everything. You were right.”

Peter feels Tony exhale shakily by his ear. “Right. So they wanted…”

“Both of them, yeah.”

“Shit,” Rhodey mutters. “Good thing you got there when you did.”

“What happened?” Peter asks. “Tony, please–“

“They took her out of school.” Tony releases him, but not all the way; one hand still rests on the nape of Peter’s neck, as if to make sure he’s still there. “Just – walked in and left with her, and not a single person in that entire stupid place thought – none of them even _looked_ – and we can’t get a license plate, FRIDAY can’t track the car on cameras–“

“Let me help,” Peter says. “I can get out there, cover more ground than the cops – and I’m stealthy, they won’t see me coming, not like you or Rhodey–“

“No.”

“Tony–“

“I said no.”

Before Peter can open his mouth to argue, Pepper pokes her head out of one of the offices down the hall. “Tony? The police chief got back to us. He’s on the line now.” Her expression is tense, but she manages a weak smile for Peter. “Hi, honey. I’m glad you’re okay.”

They all pile into the little office, holding their breath as Pepper puts the phone on speaker.

_“Mr and Mrs Stark, thank you for your cooperation with our investigation. Are you alone now?”_

“No,” Tony says, “but it’s only close family.” His hand finds Peter’s shoulder and squeezes.

_“Are you sure you want–?”_

“Yes!” Tony and Pepper snap together.

_“Okay. Uh…”_ The man clears his throat. _“I’m going to be honest with you: we have no leads. We can’t trace any plates, we can’t get a workable description of the men, we have no witnesses.”_

Pepper clutches Tony’s free hand, her knuckles turning white.

_“Now, I don’t want you to panic. The likelihood is, especially given your specific circumstances, that she’ll be used to open negotiations for something these people want.”_

_Ransom_. That’s his little sister that the man is talking about; casually, without emotion, as if she’s just another case.

_“Unfortunately, since we have nothing to go on, the ball is, ah, in their court.”_

“You think that’s good enough?” Rhodey interrupts. “We’re talking about not just Tony Stark’s daughter, but _Iron Man’s_. Do you know the kind of influence he has with the government, or the Avengers?”

_“If you’re trying to threaten me–“_

“Absolutely not. I’m just worried about what might happen if they decide to threaten _him_.”

Tony wrenches his hands away from them like he’s been burned and stalks out; his shoulders are stiff, but Peter can tell from his breathing that he’s teetering on the edge of a panic attack. He darts past Rhodey and Happy, barely registering May moving forward to put her arm around Pepper’s shoulders.

“Tony?”

No answer. Peter walks a little faster.

“Tony! Come on, don’t ignore me.”

“Peter, not right now–“

“Wait, wait.” Peter catches up, grabs Tony’s elbow. “It’s fine. It’s gonna be fine. Breathe.”

Tony’s hand wraps jerkily around his wrist.

“It’s okay, it’s me. Webs, Spider-ling, Underoos when you’re feeling mean. _Breathe_ , Tony.”

A shaky nod.

“It’s gonna be fine, okay? We’ll get her back. We’ll find a way. Look at everyone we have around us.”

Tony’s next exhale is a little easier, his fingers moving to grip Peter’s.

“It’s okay,” Peter murmurs. “You’re Tony Stark. You can do anything. The fact I’m here right now is proof of that.” He squeezes Tony’s hand in return.

“I need to – I need–“

“You can’t. You can’t just storm in there in your suit. Morgan could get hurt.”

Horrified realisation dawns over Tony’s face, a paralysing epiphany of his own uselessness. Peter’s seen that expression before, once. Only once. They don’t talk about that day.

“Let me go,” he whispers. “Please, she’s basically my sister. This is your kid we’re talking about.”

“You’re both my kids,” Tony says. “You get that? I can’t have you out there in danger, Pete, I can’t. Not with this. Not when they came after you, too. Both of my children at risk – I can’t. No. I’m sorry, kiddo, the answer’s no.”

Tony doesn’t often call him kiddo, but when he does, it’s in the softest tone of voice Peter’s ever heard him use; he tries to ignore the little jolt of happiness in his chest. Not the time. “But they don’t know I’m Spider-Man–“

“And how long do you think it’ll take them to put the pieces together, huh? What if they catch you too?”

“They _won’t_. Come on, I can do this.”

“I know you can, okay? I know. But this time, I need you to…not.”

Peter holds his gaze for a moment longer before ducking his head and nodding.

“Thank you,” Tony breathes and squeezes Peter’s fingers, his relief almost palpable, and Peter almost breaks, almost stays, but–

“I’m gonna go call Ned,” he says instead. “It’s lunchtime, and he has no idea what happened – I just left first period and never came back.”

“Okay. I’m – I’ll go back to the office – see if that idiot’s still on the line.”

“Yeah.”

With a weak smile and a quick kiss to Peter temple, Tony ambles back down the hall. Peter waits until he’s out of sight before half-jogging towards his room, scooping up his backpack on the way. He almost feels bad; Tony clearly isn’t thinking straight – in any other circumstances, he would’ve realised what Peter was doing in an instant.

Except these aren’t any other circumstances. And Peter can’t see another way.

* * *

“FRIDAY?”

_“Yes, Peter?”_

“You can override Karen, right?”

_“I can.”_

“Can you hide me and my suit until I give her the okay?”

_“I would have to tell Boss if you left, especially considering the current circumstances. My overriding protocol is to protect you and Morgan.”_

“I’m trying to save Morgan, FRIDAY. She’s in more danger than me right now.”

Silence.

“Come on, Fri. Surely Morgan’s more important than me.” She’s Tony’s daughter, after all. Peter’s just his kid.

_“You are equally prioritised in my coding.”_

“But Morgan _needs_ prioritising now, FRIDAY.”

_“…very well,”_ FRIDAY says eventually _. “I can deactivate Karen until you choose to reactivate her. I will keep this from Boss for six hours.”_

“A little longer?”

If AIs could sigh, FRIDAY would. _“Yes, Peter.”_

“You’re the best, FRIDAY. And…I need you to track a car for me.”

_“I have already attempted to follow the car that Little Miss was taken in, but–“_

“No. Give me the parking lot outside my school, about an hour ago.”

The image flashes up on his phone screen, showing Happy’s car parked across two spaces and the other black car half-hidden in the far corner.

“That black car, in the top right. Follow it.”

_“Of course.”_

Peter watches himself walk out of the school with May and Happy, stopping to stare at the strange driver, before Happy accelerates away and out of the camera’s view. After a moment, the black car slowly pulls out of its space and onto the street.

It drives for what seems like hours, even on fast-forward, but FRIDAY never once loses sight of it. Eventually, it leaves the city, heading north, down a road that winds through a forest, before turning off into a narrow track that’s almost hidden by the trees.

“Totally not suspicious,” Peter mutters.

_“That’s as far as the traffic cameras go, I’m afraid,”_ FRIDAY says, _“but according to maps, that track is a dead end.”_

“And nothing’s come back out?”

_“Not in the last hour.”_

Inspiration strikes. “Go back further on this camera. See if you get a match for the car that took Morgan.”

_“Searching…match found. Two hours ago.”_

“Got them,” Peter says with vindictive satisfaction. “Don’t tell Tony about this, FRIDAY. Not until I give you the okay. If we spook these guys, Morgan could get hurt.”

_“I agree that would be suboptimal.”_

Despite everything, Peter can’t help but snort.

* * *

FRIDAY opens his bedroom window with only a little persuading, and Peter pulls his mask on as he walks onto the balcony.

_“Be careful, Peter.”_

“Thanks, FRIDAY. I shouldn’t be too long. Hopefully.”

_“If you are offline for more than eight hours I will have to inform Boss.”_

“They might work it out by themselves anyway,” Peter says with a sigh. “But as long as Morgan’s out of there…”

_“Good luck.”_ And then the window slides closed.

He’s alone. No Karen, no Tony, no Ned, no Happy.

“Just like old times,” he mutters to himself, and hops off the balcony.

* * *

Hitching rides on trucks is nowhere near as easy without Karen’s help, not to mention he’d left his phone in his room. He stays low and out of sight where possible, wary of Tony or Rhodey, or even Pepper, swooping down in one of their suits and hauling him back up to the Tower.

He wonders if they’ve noticed yet: if May’s knocked on his door to offer some food, and her yell brought everyone running; if Tony asked FRIDAY why a phone call was taking so long and she gave an evasive not-answer, spinning him into another panic attack; if Happy saw his backpack was open and his suit gone.

_Stop thinking about it_. He’s doing this for Morgan.

Another hop, this time onto a large tanker that’s heading north on a road that looks vaguely familiar.

“Should’ve grabbed a map,” he mutters to himself. “A sat-nav. Google Earth.”

The car was on this road for about five minutes in fast-forward, so Peter guesses he needs to stay on the truck for about twenty before starting to look out for the turn. He crouches, staying low in case anyone spots him; it’s unlikely, on this deserted road, but he doesn’t know who might send a picture into the Spideywatch Twitter.

Finally, he spots the gap in the trees and leaps, rolling as he hits the verge.

“Okay,” he breathes, “just a normal, totally not creepy forest track. Just walk down it. No biggie. Hopefully there won’t be a creepy house at the end.”

* * *

There’s a creepy house at the end.

Peter groans to himself and takes a moment to check no one is on lookout – his Spidey sense is barely tingling – and hurries around to the back. It’s a wooden cabin, not unlike Tony’s one by the lake, but this one is old and grimy, its windows clouded by dirt. The back door opens with the lightest of touches and barely makes a sound; only a pathetic creak that’s instantly covered by the sounds of arguing.

“Fifteen million wasn’t what we agreed.”

“Well, maybe if _someone_ did their job and got the other one, we could have asked for more.”

Peter holds his breath as he peers through the first doorway in the hall. Two guys are in the room, both grumbling at each other, but there’s no sign of Morgan, so he moves on. God, this would be so much easier with Karen to help him, but reactivating her would instantly alert Tony.

“Not my fault you went in early.”

“I saw an opportunity–“

“Yeah, well, your _opportunity_ tipped Stark off and gave him enough time to get to the other kid before we could.”

Peter frowns to himself. Sure, he’s been spotted in public with the Starks a few times, but the official line is that he’s still just an intern. That can’t make him important enough to consider kidnapping and holding hostage.

“Look, we got the little princess. Why not push for more? Threaten her a little for the video?”

“Jesus, man, she’s _five_.”

“I’m not saying do anything to her. Just…wave a knife around, or something.”

Fists clenched, Peter tiptoes down the hall, every sense on alert. He reaches a bolted door and carefully slides the lock across, wincing when it squeaks. Beneath that sound, his ears pick up a tiny whimper.

“Morgan?” he hisses, inching the door open. “Morgan, it’s Peter.”

“Go ‘way.” Her voice is muffled; as his eyes adjust to the dim light, he sees a small figure huddled in the corner, her face pressed against her knees.

“Morgan, come on. I need to get you out of here.” No answer. “Mongoose, it’s me, I promise.”

“Peter–?”

“Shh!” He frantically gestures for her to keep quiet, but scoops her up when she jumps up and darts straight to him. “Hi, M. You wanna get out of here?”

She nods, sniffs, buries her head in his shoulder. “Is Daddy coming?”

“Soon, I promise.” Peter gives a quick once-over; she doesn’t look seriously hurt, so everything else can wait. She’s safe. “I need you to stay real quiet, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Another nod.

“Good.” Peter hoists her up so he can hold her securely in one arm and heads towards the door again.

They nearly make it. So nearly; they’re so close that it smarts when shouts erupt behind them.

“The kid’s gone!”

“Did you lock the door?”

“Of course I locked the door! I’m not an idiot!”

“Search outside. Quickly!”

Peter hisses out a swear word, too low for Morgan to hear, and shoots a web at the nearest tree with his free hand.

“There!”

“Is…that Spider-Man?”

“Stop them, but do not kill them!”

Oh, wouldn’t that just be perfect? Tony having to deal with two kids being held hostage instead of one, not to mention these morons possibly figuring out his identity on top of that.

Morgan cringes against him as shots suddenly crack through the trees, stray bullets hitting branches and trunks only to explode and send splinters flying in all directions.

Which way is the road? Or is it better to stay in the trees, where they have cover and Peter has something to swing from?

Something catches Peter’s hip, grazes it, a cold pain that turns white-hot in the next heartbeat. He grits his teeth to muffle the strangled cry that bursts out of him.

“Are you okay?” Morgan yelps.

“I’m good, I’m fine.” Peter holds his breath as he shoots another web. The shouts are getting further and further behind them, so he lands on a branch, takes a second to regain his balance. “Are you okay, Mongoose? Did they hurt you?”

She shakes her head. Okay, good. One less thing to worry about.

“That’s – that’s good, M. Really good. We’ll just hide out in these woods for a minute, and then we can go home.”

“Want Daddy.”

“Yeah.” Peter resists the urge to hiss when he stretches out an arm and the movement tugs his side. “I do too.”

* * *

He stays perched in the tree until it gets dark, every sense on high alert for any sign of the kidnappers. Once the sun slips down behind the horizon, the temperature drops; Peter draws his knees up to his chest, ignoring the agony that flares in his hip, and rests his chin on top of Morgan’s head. He could try walking, but he has no idea where on earth they are, and – nope, just shifting his leg is enough to make him gasp. No walking.

“Cold,” Morgan whimpers, her tiny body curling into his.

_Cold_. He needs his heater, and for that, he needs…“Karen?”

There’s a pause, and his heart drops to his stomach, but then, _“Rebooting…systems reactivated. Yes, Peter?”_

He shivers. His breath fans out in front of him. “Make…make my location available. Tell FRIDAY…and Tony.”

_“Done. Peter, your vitals are slightly below the normal range. I’m turning the heater on, and I would recommend that you stay awake.”_

_Morgan. Stay awake for Morgan_. Peter pulls his mask off, winces when frigid air hits his face. “You doing okay, Mongoose?”

“Uh-huh.” She huddles further into his chest. “Is Daddy coming?”

“Real soon,” Peter promises. “Just you wait, in five minutes he’s gonna be landing right in front of us and yelling at me.”

“Why? Is he mad?” Morgan’s lip wobbles. “Is he mad at me?”

“No, M. Of course he isn’t.”

“But I went with the man, and he’s always telling me not to go with strangers–“ She’s starting to hiccup, her eyes filling with tears. “This is all my fault.”

“Morgan – Morgan, listen. _None_ of this was your fault.” Peter hikes her up a little further, only to stifle a groan when his wound flares with pain. “All of those men were bad, you hear me? This isn’t on you. It’s their fault. All them.”

“Okay,” she says with a sniff. “Why’s Daddy mad at you, though?”

“Oh, you know Dad’s always mad at me,” Peter says with a grin that probably looks more like a grimace. _Keep talking. Stay awake_. “I’m used to it by now.”

“Mommy always says that he’s just worried. He’s not really angry.”

“Yeah. Yeah, your mom’s usually right.” Peter stops, pitching sideways so he’s leaning against another branch. “You mind if I just rest my eyes for a minute, Mongoose?”

“You okay?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m good. Don’t worry.” In reality, there are black spots dancing in his vision and his breaths are turning choppy, but he doesn’t want to scare her.

“Peter?” Her voice wavers; too late. “Are you bleeding?”

“Am I?” He makes a show of checking his side. _Yikes_ , that’s a lot of blood. “Oh, look at that. I didn’t even notice. It’s really not that bad, Mongoose.”

_So tired…_

“Hey, you mind if I…make sure you don’t fall? Just so you’re super extra safe?”

“Yeah. Uh-huh.”

“Cool.” Peter raises one wrist, ignoring how his hand trembles, and webs Morgan to his chest like she’s in a baby sling. “There you go.”

“Feels weird,” she says with a giggle. Peter smiles.

She’s safe. Tony’s on his way. That’s all that matters. “You okay if I take a nap?”

“Are you tired?”

“Well, being Spider-Man is exhausting, you know? Loads of swinging.” He closes his eyes. “Need to get my beauty sleep in.”

“‘Kay.”

She’s safe. She’s safe. Peter takes a deep breath, refuses to flinch at yet another twinge from his hip. He’s done what he needed to do.

_She’s safe._

* * *

“What–? Oh, holy – I found – hey!”

Peter whimpers as the shout drills into his skull like a hot poker. Morgan shifts against his chest. He’s cold, too cold.

“Tony! Tony, they’re here!”

_Tony_. That means they’re safe. Morgan’s safe. Out of the woods, in every sense.

“…well-hidden,” someone is saying. The voice might be familiar. Maybe. “If we hadn’t been following the kid’s tracker…” A pause. “Yeah, the other guys had no chance.” Something brushes across Peter’s cheek. “You did good, kid.”

“Daddy!” Morgan cries. It’s piercing.

“Two minutes, little lady.” Morgan’s warmth is gone from Peter’s chest and he whines. There’s another whine, too, in the background, continuous and familiar, but he can’t quite place it. “Oh, crap…is this your blood, Morgan?”

“No, Peter’s hurt.”

“Kid? Kid, I need you to wake up now, you hear me? No more napping.” This person might be panicking. Is that strange? Do they do that often? He can’t remember.

“I’m sorry,” Morgan sniffles, “he said he was just tired – I let him fall asleep–“

“No, it’s not your fault – Tony! Over here! Look, there’s your dad, little lady. Peter, you hear that as well? Dad’s here.”

_Dad. Tony._

Tony, who’s going to be pissed as hell at him for running off, getting hurt, and getting lost in the middle of the woods with Morgan and no plan for getting home.

“She’s okay,” the voice says. “It’s Peter’s blood.”

“It’s _what_?”

Peter peels open his eyes as the voices get louder again. Tony’s face is hovering above him, tense and drawn, but it relaxes once he sees that Peter’s looking at him.

“Hey, kid. You still with us?”

Deep in the recesses of his addled brain, Peter knows there’s some reason he doesn’t apologise anymore, some strange look that passes over Tony’s face every time he tries, but it’s completely lost in a wave of pain and exhaustion.

“Sorry,” he mumbles “sorry, Tony.”

“Hey, no, none of that. No sorries.”

“Sorry,” Peter says anyway, and then again for good measure. “Sorry. ‘M sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Tony says, and he doesn’t sound angry, for some reason. “It’s okay. I need to pick you up, Pete.”

“No…Morg’n. Get Morgan–“

“She’s safe. You kept her safe.”

Morgan’s safe. Peter nods, letting his body relax. He can let go now.

“Don’t go to sleep. Peter! Look at me.” Something is tapping his cheek, not hard but definitely insistent. “Keep those eyes open.”

“‘M s’rry,” he manages. Sleep is the only plausible option right now; anything else, his body resists like polarised magnets. “Dad, ‘m s’rry.”

“Hey! Hey, no, stay awake. Peter. Peter!”

* * *

“Daddy? Daddy, I think he’s waking up.”

“Not so loud, baby. He’s a teenager, remember? They’re grumpy in the mornings.”

Peter manages a groan of protest.

“There, you see? Grumpy. Why don’t you go find Mommy and May, yeah? Tell them Peter’s awake.”

“Okay!” Little footsteps hit the floor and patter away, followed by a heavy sigh. Peter wonders if he can get away with falling back asleep.

“I know you’re awake, kid.”

Of course he does. Tony always knows.

“Take your time, buddy. I’ll be right here.”

“T’red.”

“I think a day and a half is long enough, don’t you?”

Peter growls in the back of his throat, and almost immediately starts to cough; they wrack his whole body and send his lungs into agonising spasms. At the same time, heat flares up in his hip and he cries out, barely a croak in his dry mouth.

“Easy, easy.” A gentle hand helps him sit up, another rubs his shoulders. “Just breathe, Pete. I know it hurts, but try. For me.”

All he can manage is a pained whimper, but the coughing fit passes and Tony eases him back down.

“Yeah, that’ll be the cold you picked up.”

“The _wha’_?” Peter rasps. “C’n’t ge’ sick.”

“Not usually, but you can get _cold_.” There’s something sitting just behind Tony’s eyes, but then he turns away to reach for a glass of water and it’s gone. “Very cold, thanks to your little downgrade in terms of homeostasis. Factor in blood loss, and…”

Right. The forest. The gunshots. _Morgan_. “Morgan!” Peter blurts. “Is she–?”

Tony smiles tightly as he holds the glass out for Peter to drink. “Oh, she’s fine. Let me just say, though, finding my five-year-old daughter thirty feet off the ground and covered in blood isn’t something I’m forgetting any time soon.”

Great. Peter’s probably traumatised her, traumatised the whole family. He’ll be lucky if Tony still wants him around after this.

“Not on my list of top ten experiences. Might even make the bottom ten.”

Peter winces. “S’rry.”

“Yeah. Almost as bad as finding out my sixteen-year-old son has somehow… _negotiated_ with my AI and gone completely off-grid, not even an hour after there was a clear attempt to kidnap him, too. And, oh, I know exactly what he’s _doing_ , but I don’t know where the hell he’s _gone_ , and all I can do is a whole lot of nothing until he deigns to broadcast his location. So I stop doing my pointless sweeps of random empty buildings in the city and fly out to the middle of nowhere, only to find both of my kids in a tree, covered in blood and–“ Tony breaks off, breathing hard. “You, barely coherent and bleeding. Passing out and apologising. I thought you were saying goodbye–“ He doesn’t say _again_ , but Peter hears it anyway.

“Th’ght y’were gonna be mad,” Peter mumbles, and closes his eyes.

Tony sighs, long and sad. “One day you’re going to realise that I’m never really mad at you, kid. I just…I’m just worried. You scare me sometimes, you really do.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Well, at least you’re not even denying it.” Tony sighs again, reaching out to ruffle Peter’s hair.

“I don’t mean to.”

“I know.”

“Had to save Morgan. I needed to try, at least.”

“You did, Peter. She’s safe. Not a scratch on her. You, on the other hand, are lucky to have your pelvis intact.”

“Yeah, feels like it,” Peter mutters. “Got shot?”

“Got shot,” Tony confirms. “I’m sorry, kid, I should’ve listened to you. You shouldn’t’ve been on your own with this. If you’d had Karen backing you up, or Rhodey and I had been closer…”

“Not your fault.”

“I should know by now that telling you to stay home never works.”

Peter grins. “You’re getting better.”

“Maybe, maybe. Definitely wasn’t thinking clearly this time around, though.”

“I think I’ll let you off, just this once.” A few moments pass in easy silence. “You said…you called me your son.”

“You called me dad,” Tony replies, his voice soft. “Of course, you were on your way to dying from exposure and blood loss, so maybe you get a free pass, too.”

He’s giving Peter an out, a way to pretend it never happened. They could blame it on the cold, Peter’s injury, the hours alone with Morgan, and that would be that.

“I’ll save that pass for another time.”

Tony practically melts, but makes quick work of hiding his relief under fond exasperation. “That’s not how that _works_ , Underoos, it’s not a rollover–“

“My pass, my rules.”

“Ugh, why are you so much like me? Is this karma?”

“ _You know what they say about apples and trees, Boss,”_ FRIDAY chimes in.

“No,” Tony says, jabbing a finger at the ceiling. “You’re still on probation. You see how I sent Morgan to fetch everyone instead of you? Gotta earn that trust back.”

“What about me?” Peter asks. “Am I on probation too?”

“You’ve been on probation since day dot, kiddo. No, look.” Tony’s expression turns suddenly serious. “There’s nothing in this world more important than you and Morgan being safe and happy. And I’ve known since pretty early on that you have little to no regard for your own welfare, especially when other people are in danger. It scares me – it terrifies me – but it also makes me so proud. I see you on the news doing heart-stoppingly reckless, selfless things, and I’m so damn proud of you.”

“…oh,” Peter manages.

“‘Oh’? Yeah, you know what? I’ll take that.” Tony reaches out, pushes Peter’s hair off his forehead. “You saved Morgan, buddy. I’ve never been prouder, and also you’re so, so grounded.”

Peter swallows, wincing at his raw throat. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s probably fair.”

“No ‘probably’ about it, Webs.”

“Okay, fine. Definitely, absolutely fair.”

“You got it, kid.”

“Take a shot every time a new and embarrassing nickname comes up in conversation,” Peter mutters.

“I think that can wait until you’re twenty-one, Web-doodle.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.” Tony kisses him on the forehead. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr @akillerqueenwrites, or my main blog @akillerqueenyouare. come say hi, ask questions, leave prompts or just yell at me. thank you for reading!


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